What Once Was Lost
by Saphire Ravven8
Summary: Something is amiss is Mirkwood and Legolas's life is in danger. Aragorn gets a scare. This is a bad summary. Trust me, just read it. SLASH! You've been warned! LA and a little ThranduilElrond.
1. Default Chapter

Title: What Once Was Lost  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Bummer...  
A/N: I know that Elves aren't abusive of their children. No, this isn't some overly-done possession thing. Just pay attention and you'll get it eventually. And yes, I realize that there are holes in my plot. That's the point. Deal with it.  
  
Legolas sat in the clearing, eyes closed, legs crossed, hands in his lap. He took deep, steady breaths, clearing his mind. The trees around him, twisted with age, but still beautiful, swayed in a gentle breeze. The blonde Elf was completely silent, listening to the voices of the forest, and for those few brief moments he was at peace.  
A twig snapped behind him, breaking Legolas' concentration and shattering the silence of the forest. Legolas stood and turned, already knowing who he would see there. His father, Thranduil, stood before him, his fingers clenching and unclenching, lips a thin line; his face was flushed in anger. Legolas' eyes hardened as he glared at the person he used to look up to.  
"You broke my concentration." He spat, not a good idea under the circumstances. Thranduil glared back at him icily. The elder Elf strode forward, Legolas cringed: he knew what was coming. Thranduil curled his fingers into a tight fist, bringing his arm back, preparing to strike.  
"Foolish child," Thranduil brought his fist forward with all of his strength, lending it with a thud against Legolas' cheek. The young Elf fell to the ground, dazed. He shook himself, wiping blood from a long, deep cut on his cheekbone from Thranduil's ring. He stood and proudly faced his father. He had only just gotten to his feet when Thranduil's fist crashed into his face again and he crumpled to the ground, and this time he didn't get up. Shadow's filled the corners of his eyes and the shifted in and out of focus as he slipped in and out of consciousness. Thranduil kicked at him, breaking several of his ribs and bruising his back, legs, and arms. His foot connected with the side of Legolas' head and he passed out, welcoming the numbing darkness.  
Thranduil took deep breaths, staring in disgust at the still from of his son. I hope he dies here, he thought, shooting one last vicious kick at his son's face. The hard sole of his shoe cut a deep gash in the pale skin of Legolas' forehead, just above his left eyebrow. Thranduil turned and marched out of the clearing, not even bothering to look back at the destruction he had caused.  
The trees whispered to each other, carrying an urgent message to Rivendell. The Elf prince was dead. Killed by his father's hands. The prince was not dead, really, but the trees couldn't tell the difference. They could not have known that the somber message could prove to be the young Elf's saving, for a couple of miles away a dark haired king rode to visit an old friend.  
Aragorn rode past the edge of Mirkwood as the message reached his ears. '_The prince is dead. The Elf prince is dead. Killed by his father the king. The prince is dead...'_ Aragorn's eyes grew wide in disbelief; a cold fear gripped his heart.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A/N: This is a re-posting, I hope all my lovely reviewers can find it again. Please review. Saph


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Bummer.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. A tear fell down his cheek. He glanced at the woods, singling out a tall, gnarled oak. "Take me to him. Take me to the prince." He shouted up at it. A strong breeze blew his hair into his face and a long line of trees leaned towards one side.  
"Follow the bent bows, hasty friend." The tree mumbled, leaning its' branches inward.  
"Thank you," Aragorn bowed in his saddle, pushing his fear away. 'It cannot be true. It can't be.' He rode hard, following the trail that the trees laid out for him. "Faster!" he whispered to his horse.  
After several tense minutes, Aragorn came upon the clearing. He jumped off his horse and took a hesitant step forward. He caught sight of a dark, motionless shape in the center of the small clearing. 'No. Please, no.' He thought to himself. He ran forward and fell to his knees beside Legolas' still body. "No," he whispered, tears falling freely from him eyes. He cradled Legolas in his arms, holding his head to his chest, not caring that he got the Elf's blood on his hands or clothing. "No, no." He repeated to himself over and over again. "You cannot be dead, please, no." Aragorn rocked back and forth tears falling onto Legolas' bloody cheek. As Aragorn shifted his weight, holding the Elf closer to him, Legolas' head fell backward slightly. A cool, gentle breath touched Aragorn's tear stained face. Startled, Aragorn glanced down at Legolas sharply; the Elf's eyelids fluttered but did not open. A slow stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, tainting his pale skin.  
"You are alive? Oh, thank the Valar."(A/N: Did I spell that right?) He hugged the Elf closer, brushing his white-blonde hair from his bloody face. "You're alive," He breathed, kissing Legolas' forehead. Aragorn clasped the Elf's hand in his own; his pale skin was cold, clammy, very un- Elf like. "Hold on, Legolas, just hold on."  
He heard a rustle of leaves behind him and turned quickly to see Lord Elrond sliding out of the trees. Elrond hastened over to where Legolas lay in Aragorn's arms and put a hand on the man's shoulder.  
"Is he-?" His voice held a fear that he would not show.  
"No." Aragorn whispered. He heard Lord Elrond breathe a sigh of relief and crouch down beside him. He placed a hand on Legolas' forehead and muttered a few indiscernible words and a slight blue-ish light played over the younger Elf's body. "Come; get him onto your horse. I can do no more for him here. We must get him to Rivendell."  
"Won't it hurt him to move him?"  
"No, I have made it so that no more harm can come to him. He is protected." Aragorn nodded and whistled his horse over, then mounted and let Elrond lift Legolas into his arms. He heard Lord Elrond whisper a few more words and a great likeness of Legolas' pale and broken form appeared in the clearing. If he hadn't known any better, Aragorn would have sworn that it was the young prince lying on the soft green grass.  
"In case his father returns." Lord Elrond explained, jumping onto his horse, a beautiful white mare. "Come on," he heeled his horse into motion and sped off, Aragorn right behind him.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A/N: Okay, I'm sooo stuck on where to go with this from here. I need help. Any ideas?


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